


i believe you (but my tommy gun don't)

by commas_and_ampersands



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Background Lizzie/Darcy, Blood, Chicago (City), Embedded Images, Gen, Gun Violence, Multimedia, Past George/Gigi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commas_and_ampersands/pseuds/commas_and_ampersands
Summary: Years later, the survivors would look back and wonder: if they’d loved each other less, would things have been different?





	i believe you (but my tommy gun don't)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written March 2013. Minor edits December 2018.
> 
>  
> 
> **The embedded edit contains historical images depicting 1920s Chicago gang violence, including blood and dead bodies. If you are sensitive to this content, please proceed with caution.**

**The Place**  | Chicago, late 1920s.  Crime Capitol of the World.  Windy City; Second City; Murder City.

 **The Players**  | Gangsters, Gun Molls, and G-Men

  * **Giorgio “The Mouth” Giancana**  - A  _caporegime_  in Al Capone’s Chicago outfit.  Heart breaker; love taker; gin maker.  The pretty boy of the speakeasy.  Former best friend of William.  Childhood sweetheart to Gigi.  Lover of Lydia and others.
  * **William “Willie” Darcy**  - Former Chicago cop.  Now deputized by Eliot Ness to serve in Chicago's Bureau of Prohibition.  An honest man forced to keep a thousand secrets.  Former best friend of Giorgio.  Brother of Gigi.  Husband of Elizabeth.  Brother-in-law of Lydia.
  * **Lydia “Lips Vendetta” Bennet**  - Former prostitute, gun moll, aspiring actress.  A fixture in nightclubs, particularly Capone hangouts.  Wounded and shining brightly.  Sister of Elizabeth.  Best friend of Gigi.  Lover of Giorgio.  Sister-in-law of William.
  * **Georgiana “Gigi” Darcy**  - A musical prodigy also known as “The Little Levee Nightingale.”  Everyone’s favorite kid from the neighborhood, seemingly destined to escape the life.  Sister of William.  Childhood sweetheart of Giorgio.  Best friend of Lydia.  Friend of Elizabeth.



**The Plot**  | Years later, the survivors would look back and wonder: if they’d loved each other less, would things have been different?

 

  

* * *

  **1922**

* * *

 

Four levee boys are about to begin the rest of their lives.  Career opportunities not being thick on the ground in Chicago's vice district, they don’t have many options.  Realistically, they can become one of three things: a gangster, a politician, or a priest.  Ricky Collins, recently engaged to Charlotte “Lucky” Lucas, is notorious for misquoting bible verses - usually out of context; he chooses minister.  Charlie “Bing” Lee’s sharper than the average levee kid, and he has a sister, “Cutthroat Caroline” Lee, who is determined to make her way in the world; she chooses politician for him.  As for Giorgio Giancana, the choice is easy.  Giorgio has always preferred it when things are easy.  And running with the mob is the easy choice in his neighborhood.

But William Darcy is different.  He doesn’t have the faith to preach.  He doesn’t have the social skills to politic.  And he has no stomach for the way gangsters like Capone and Moran operate.  He loves Chicago; he loathes murder city.

This is how William Darcy becomes the first levee kid to join the police force without being a plant.

This is how Giorgio and William, practically raised in the same house, nearly tear their home apart in the resulting brawl.

This is how friendships are destroyed and enemies are made.

This is how Lydia Bennet follows Giorgio into the smoky nightclubs she means to conquer.

This is how Georgiana “Gigi” Darcy is forced to take sides and chooses her brother over her lover.

This is how things fall apart.

 

* * *

  **1925**

* * *

 

William has spent three years with the Chicago police.  In that time, he’s married Elizabeth “Lizzie the Spy” Bennet.  A girl from the neighborhood who spent most of her childhood hating him; she won’t cop to when she decided to love him instead.

He’s also gained a reputation for being the one incorruptible cop on the force.  This hasn’t made him popular on the street or at the station.  But so what if they call him a daisy, a weak sister, a nance?  They can stuff that barber.  It’s made him a better man.

But arguably the most significant use of his time is arresting Giorgio Giancana 25 times.

William would say he is trying to keep Giorgio from ending up a stiff.  Giorgio would say William is trying to bump him off - professionally speaking.  No matter that William only pinches Giorgio for the small stuff.  No matter that Giorgio has never spent any real time in the can.

What matters is that Giorgio decides (or realizes) he and his friend no longer drink out of the same bottle.  William’s always been this way: spiteful and unforgiving, and it’s not not going to stop.  Not unless he pulls a big job to send the message loud and clear.

And Giorgio knows that William has never been quick on the uptake.

 

 

 

On New Year’s Eve, Gigi Darcy leaves the Green Hill Lounge.  She doesn’t like singing for her supper at this or any other Capone hangout.  She especially doesn’t like the wandering hands pawing at her.  Through the haze of gasper smoke, she can never see who they are.  The hidden faces somehow make it worse.

Her brother has made it crystal clear that he doesn’t like her hanging in the gin mills, but where else is she supposed to go?  Capone's Chicago's ultimate butter and egg man; he owns every joint in town.  He wants her to get out of the neighborhood, and this is the only way she knows how to do it.  It’s not like she’ll drown for dipping her toe in.

She’d never cop to it of course, but the real reason she doesn't like the clubs is Giorgio.  He can’t handle that she gave him the gate.  Every reunion ends with broken bottles, sore pipes, and somebody in tears.

And it always ended the same way.  What was she supposed to do?  They  _made_  her choose.  What had Giorgio expected?  Willie’s her brother, and blood is blood.

Even though she loved him (loves him?), she never had a choice.

Gigi wraps her coat more tightly around her chest.  She can feel the wind biting her through the holes she’s worn in it.  She decides she has to forget about Giorgio.  Maybe she’ll see him, but she doesn’t have to shoot the breeze with him.  And Lydia will always be there to come between them, toss her hair, take his drink away or order him another.  Lydia's good like that.  She’s never forgiven Willie for throwing Giorgio out, but that’s never applied to Gigi.  And all right,  Lydia wouldn’t mind having Giorgio herself, but Gigi can’t hold that against her.  Someone should let him know that he’s loved.  If it can’t be Gigi, why not Lydia?

It’s a new year, and it’s time to leave some things behind.  Her involvement in Giorgio and Willie’s feud is one of them.  If she smoked, she’d crush a cigarette under her shoe for symbolism or something.

She walks on and sings "Auld Lang Syne” quietly, her heel strikes keeping time.  She rounds the corner.  She pulls up short when a figure steps into her path.

The sound of a gunshot is unmistakable.

 

 

 

Moments later, Lydia stumbles out of the club.  She shoves the mook still groping at her.  She’d like to sock him, but it would just slow her down.  She takes off in the direction Gigi would have gone.

Sure nobody’s put the curse on Gigi.  Sure nobody wants her dead.  But nobody wanted Gigi’s parents dead, and they still got popped.  Tommy guns shoot lead all over the street.  Even if everyone loves Gigi (and they do, Lydia thinks, ignoring the bitter lump in her throat), this is what they’ve always done.

You hear a gunshot, you find each other.  Just to be sure, just to be safe, just to be breathing.

Lydia rounds the corner, and there she finds Gigi.  For a second, Lydia thinks she’s just fallen down.  Nobody saw her with any hooch, but Gigi could have knocked a few back on the sly.

But then Gigi doesn’t get up.  And Lydia sees.

Her eyes are wide open.  Red pours from a hole in the center of her throat.  There’s a mark on her cheek like lips, a wet crimson kiss.

That lump in her throat's back, and now she's choking on it.

She screams.

 

 

 

The clock strikes midnight.

Happy New Year.

 

* * *

**1926**

* * *

 

Like so many others, Gigi Darcy’s funeral comes too soon.  Reverend Collins presides and recites the prodigal son parable for no reason anyone can make out.  Bing (now Charles, thanks ever so much and so sorry about Georgiana) delivers a eulogy that promises to bring the killer to justice.  Darcy forgives them for their incompetence and false promises, but only just.

Everyone from the neighborhood attends, including made men in the Chicago outfit and a few from the North Side Gang.  Out of respect, maybe, they hover on the edges of the crowd.  Still, Elizabeth clutches him with an iron grip.

“Don’t, Will.  Promise me.  Don’t.”

He almost promises, sincerely because that’s who he is and has always been.  But then there is Giorgio, placing a white rose on Gigi’s coffin.  Giorgio, who might have been a prodigal son of a sort.  Giorgio, who's been fingered by more than one snitch as Gigi’s killer.  Giorgio, who is now known on the street as “The Mouth.”

Elizabeth releases him, either out of shock or compliance, and Darcy lunges for him.  the coffin shudders with the force of the impact, but it does not fall.  He pushes Giorgio so deep into the snow that he’s almost buried in it.  William wraps his hands around Giorgio’s neck.

Squeezes.

It takes five coppers to pull him off Giorgio and four quick moving trouble boys to lead the mobster away.  For a moment, everyone is shouting, and the next, there is only one voice.  It is Darcy’s.  His voice is raw, and so is the rest of him.

“You killed her!  You loved her, and you killed her!  You son of a bitch!”

Giorgio just laughs and turns away.

 

 

 

Later, Gigi Darcy is lowered into the cold earth.  No one says that she is at rest.

Lydia, inconsolable since Gigi’s death, refuses to believe that Giorgio had anything to do with the crime.  She accuses William of all the sins Giorgio has laid upon him, parroting them exactly.  Days after the funeral, she disappears into the levee underworld, smoke from a snuffed flame.

In the spring, Elizabeth gives birth to a daughter.  Although William asks it of her, she refuses to name her Georgiana.  She will not burden her child with the weight of the dead.

In the summer, Giorgio Giancana is elevated to  _caporegime_.

In the autumn, darcy quits the force.

More bodies drop bearing “the red kiss of death.”

One suspect; no arrests.

 

* * *

  **1927**  

* * *

 

 

Eliot Ness comes to Chicago to bring down Al Capone.  Maybe they can’t get him for murder, but there’s a chance they can jail him for his flagrantly violating the Volstead Act.  Eyes and ears are open all over second city, and it doesn’t take long for whispers to lead the agent to William Darcy’s door.

Since quitting the force, Darcy's behavior has grown increasingly erratic.  Insomnia plagues him most of the night; the little sleep he gets steeps in nightmares.  He’s taken to staying up for hours watching his daughter sleep.  His shoulder holster and pistol are now a permanent accessory.

William can’t muster the appropriate surprise when Ness arrives at his home.  He is too full of grief.  Elizabeth is upstairs nursing the baby, which Ness says is just as well.  What he has come to propose might not be appropriate for his wife’s delicate ears.

William almost smiles thinking of what Elizabeth would have to say about that.  And what is Agent Ness proposing exactly?

There is a job offer, according to Ness.  Because Darcy has the inside line.  He grew up with half of the members of the Chicago Outfit; he’s arrested most of the others.  Darcy knows their movements and their habits.  With Darcy's help, they can bring the whole organization down.

And of course, Ness adds, what happened to your sister is a tragedy.  The man responsible for her death should pay.  You could make him pay.  Lawfully - or behind the law.

A weight lifts.  Darcy inhales deeply.  In a way, he’d forgotten how to breathe.

Darcy agrees, and there is an unspoken proviso.  No matter what happens, Giancana is his.  If Giorgio killed her, and he almost certainly did, Giorgio is his.

Darcy is deputized in his living room, the family asleep upstairs.  After Ness leaves, William finds his wife and daughter asleep in the rocking chair.  He takes the babe from her mother’s arms and places her in the crib.  Then he leads Elizabeth to bed and joins her.  He sleeps soundly that night in his wife’s arms.

The next morning, when she asks who came to the door so late the night before, he tells Elizabeth nothing.  It’s best not to worry her.

 

 

 

Weeks later, the Bureau plans a raid on an underground gin joint.  As has become his custom, Darcy arrives before the cavalry in hopes of laying eyes, hands, and gun barrel on Giancana.  He’s rewarded, but he finds more than his erstwhile friend on the dance floor.

He finds Lydia.

Llydia Bennet, is now “Lips Vendetta,” if the cigarette girl jawing in his ear is to be believed.  Rumor has it that she was a pro skirt - a prostitute - until she caught Giorgio’s eye.  Now the two are rarely seen apart.  He gives her everything she wants.  Jewels that sparkle, luscious fur coats, and she all the 'shine she can drink.

He also gave her a pearl-enameled gun.  She named it “Kitty,” and it’s become something of a legend in the levee’s underworld.  Lips Vendetta, and the cigarette girl saw this herself, shot a low level member of the North Side Mob for beating his girl in the street.  Maybe he died and maybe he didn’t, but everyone knows that Lips Vendetta is not a kitten you want to cross.

For a long time after that, Darcy watches her.  She and Giorgio are nothing short of a vision on the dance floor.  He shines, and she dazzles.  Giorgio may be the one everyone sees first, but it’s Lydia they can’t stop looking at.  Bright, beautiful, and oh so deadly.

Darcy doesn’t know if Giorgio’s involvement with Lydia is another cruel joke, gratitude for her unwavering belief in him, or some kind of penance.  Darcy doesn’t even know if Giorgio is capable of love anymore.

The only constant in this scenario, oddly enough, is Lydia.  She would not abandon Giorgio with her best friend’s blood on his hands a year ago; she’s less likely to do so now.  He’s had months to fill her head with lies about Darcy and theories about who “really” killed Gigi.

Maybe Lydia doesn’t deserve it, but for Elizabeth's sake, William has to intervene.

He catches her when Giorgio’s back is turned.  She all but reaches for her gun when she recognizes him.  He doesn’t give her time to act.  He just tells her to get out, knowing that Giancana will flee at her side.

It guts him.  He could end it now, if he wanted.  He could put a bullet in the back of Giorgio’s head, splatter his brains on Lydia’s diamonds and silk dress, and put the whole matter to rest.

But he can’t.  Or at least he doesn't.

As expected, Lydia and Giorgio flee out a back door.  Darcy watches them go, noting how Giorgio holds her too close, like a toy he doesn’t want to share.  This is strangely comforting.  As long as they interested him, Giorgio always took care of his toys.

Of course, once he got bored with them….

Better not to think about that.

The raid begins.  The alcohol is dumped.  No major players in Capone's organization are collared.

When he comes home, smelling of sweat, liquor, and smoke, Elizabeth asks where he was.  A dive, he confesses.  I’m sorry, love.  It won’t happen again.

He does not mention Lydia.  the uncertainty of her sister’s fate weighs heavily on her, but the truth would destroy Elizabeth.  He must make sure that she never knows.

 

 

 

On the anniversary of Gigi’s death, a parcel is left on the Darcys’ doorstep.  Its liquor, clear and strong and likely as not to blind him.

There’s also a note.

"Best wishes for this new year."

There is no signature.  Just the imprint of Giorgio’s mouth with Lydia's lipstick.

He pours the moonshine down the drain.

 

* * *

 **1928**  

* * *

 

Another year of chasing pointless leads.  Another year of Giorgio slipping through his fingers.  Another year of lies.

It couldn’t last forever.

Elizabeth learns the truth just after Christmas.  William doesn’t know how she finds out and he doesn’t ask.  He suspects Giorgio somehow tipped his hand.  It would be just like him to take another person from his life.

Elizabeth is furious.  Her husband has lied, put his life in danger, chased vengeance, and worst of all, failed to save her sister.  William can offer no defense.  He has none.

Elizabeth takes their child and leaves him, planning to stay with her older sister, Jane, recently married to Bing (no, Charles) Lee.  On the threshold, she pauses.

"Find my sister."

"Will you come back if I do?"

She doesn’t have an answer for him.  He doesn’t deserve one.

 

 

 

Darcy doesn’t leave the house for days.  Soon enough, the date of Gigi’s murder rolls around again.

Another package.  Another bottle.  Another card.  Another red kiss.

This time Darcy drinks it all.

He smashes the bottle once it’s empty.

 

* * *

  **1929**  

* * *

 

Chicago is a warzone.

On Valentine’s Day, seven men die in a Lincoln Park garage.  A hit on “Bugsy” Moran gone bad, so they say.  Capone ordered the hit, if the rumors are true.  But who really cares?  It’s just an excuse for more bloodshed.

The bodies are falling like it’s a game of 52 card pick up, only everyone’s losing.  Chicago’s G-men are out in force.  In the middle of a pinch, Darcy learns that Giancana and “Lips” have fled the city.  Giorgio doesn’t care for bullets when they’re flying both ways.  The snitch gets a break, and Darcy gives chase.

For six days, Darcy pursues the pair.  They leave a wide trail of red breadcrumbs behind them.  At first, they merely steal to survive, but within hours, the first body drops.  Eyewitness accounts are enough to confirm both Giorgio and Lydia had guns, but it’s never quite clear who fired.  The only thing everyone agrees on is the way their hands shook while they aimed.  They know detox when they see it, sir, legal or no, and they’ve got it bad.  They don’t have to tell Darcy how much worse it can be on bad rotgut.

The crimes become more frenzied and frequent.  The bodies pile up.  Each witness’s account hints at Giorgio and Lydia's continuing mental deterioration.

Finally, he catches them at the Louisiana state border.  Lydia is curled up on the side of the road, dry heaving, screaming about birds trying to peck out her eyes.  Giorgio tries to comfort her, but he’s shaking so bad that he can’t hold on to her.  It’s pitiful.  Darcy is not moved.

When Giorgio sees Darcy, he smiles as if his jaw is made of chipped glass.  "Here to arrest me?“

Darcy pulls out his gun.  "No.”

“Didn’t think so.  You really gonna bump me off in front of the kid?  Cold, Willie.  even for you.”

Darcy's finger is on the trigger.  All it would take is a tiny ounce of pressure, and it will be over.  But he can’t do it.  Not without hearing the words.

“Did you kill her?”

“What?  Lips is just fine, Willie.  Alive, anyway.”

“Shut up.  Did you kill her?”

“Well, do you want me to answer or shut my trap?  Make up your mind, Willie.”

“Don't call me that.  Did you kill my sister?”

Giorgio laughs.  It’s just like the funeral and in Darcy's nightmares.  Darcy wonders if Giorgio laughed that night.  Did he think killing his old flame was funny?  Did he think destroying Darcy's life was a game?  Was this the last sound his sister had heard?

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Giorgio says.

Darcy fires.

Giorgio flings himself out of the way.  The bullet hits the dirt, sending a cloud of dust into the air.  Lydia screams about dry rain that burns.

Unarmed, Giorgio only has one chance to survive.  He rushes Darcy, tackling him around the middle.  They tumble into the road.  They grapple with each other, knowing that whoever holds the gun will come out of this alive.  Blows and kicks land furiously.  William's nose bleeds.  Giorgio’s kidneys ache.  The gun is pressed between them, and Darcy can't physically pull the trigger.

Giorgio kicks dust into Darcy's eyes.  William is blind.  Then he is unarmed.  Then the pistol’s cool steel presses against his forehead.

Darcy is terrified.  He is also relieved.  At least it will be finished.

But he asks, “Was it you?  Did you kill her?”

“Unbelievable.  You got nothing.  No cards to play.  It’s a done deal, but you still won’t let it go.  Why, willie?  Why you gotta keep asking me that?  'Specially since we both know the score.”

The pressure of the gun barrel is enough to bruise.

“You killed her, Willie.  Not your bullets.  Not your gun.  But it’s still down to you.”

Giorgio kisses Darcy’s cheek like Judas before him.

“You give that to my Gigi when you see her.”

The sound of a gunshot is unmistakable.

Darcy braces himself for impact, but he feels nothing.  There is no torn flesh or leaking wound.  He has not been shot.

A weight falls on his chest, still and warm and wet.  Darcy’s eyes still burn with dust, but he can just make out the scene.  Giorgio’s eyes are wide open.  Blood pours from the hole in his chest.  Their shirts are stained bright crimson, like lipstick on a love letter.

Lips - or Lydia - stands over them.  Her gun is smoking if somewhat unsteady.  For a long time, she can’t look away from Giorgio’s body.  He can’t read her every thought and mood, but he knows the look of someone being crushed beneath the weight of their grief.  Or their guilt.  Even half-blind, he can see that.

When they can finally see each other clearly, Darcy  _sees_ her for the first time.  She is bruised but not broken.  If only he could be so lucky.

"I loved him," she murmurs.  "I didn't know.  This whole time… I loved them both, but I didn't know."

Darcy finally rises, pushing Giorgio's corpse away.  He gently takes "Kitty" from Lydia's grasp.  Her eyes are red.  It seems like everything is.

He should hold her, maybe.  But he doesn’t.

A siren screams in the distance.

"He was like my brother," he admits, now that maybe she can't hear him.  "I loved him too."

But she does.

"Seems we always kill the ones we love." 

 

 

Years later, the survivors would look back and wonder: if they’d loved each other less, would things have been different?

**Author's Note:**

> Since Tumblr is in the process of imploding, I'm moving my little AU/edit/ficcy posts over here to keep them from being lost entirely should my blog be deleted.
> 
> Original Tumblr post [here](http://commas-and-ampersands.tumblr.com/post/45151897703/lbd-chicago-gangster-au-i-believe-you-but-my).
> 
> I actually really like these AUs, but I'm not sure I'll ever get around to giving them the proper attention they deserve. If anyone wants to do that themselves, you are more than welcome! Just be sure to let me know so I can enjoy it too.


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